With Her
by Demigod of Magic
Summary: Alex is an anti-social and overweight geek. Unfortunately, he also finds himself trapped in Skyrim. He realises the only way he can survive is with the Dragonborn, and to use his knowledge of the world to traverse the once fictional world. SI. Female, Wood Elf dragonborn.


Alex panted heavily as he ran through the front door of his house, his brown hair clinging to his forehead, drenched from the rain. Normally he hated moving at faster than a waking pace, as his protruding stomach could attest to, but the sudden downpour of rain, rumblings of thunder overhead, and the brief flashes of lightning had been enough to convince him to run back from college. His lungs were paying the price now, forcing him to stop and take deep gasps of air. He debated using his inhaler, but decided against it choosing to take it out of his bag in case it was needed.

He entered his home, glad to be out of the ran, still inhaling air at a worrying speed, the rain dripping from him and puddling at his feet.

Once his breathing had returned to normal, he quickly stripped out of his wet clothes, dumping them in a heap on his bedroom floor and began rubbing his hair out of his face.

His eyes wandered around his room as he debated what to do. His homework lay half-done on his bed, a textbook open next to it. His gaze settled on the VR headset he had and he grinned to himself.

Skyrim was the only game he owned for VR, and he honestly thought it was the only game he'd need. It was a great game played on a television screen, but VR made it a dream come true, being able to make you feel part of the game.

His most recent character was a Dark Elf, solely made for achievement, leader of all guilds and owner of all Daedric artefacts.

He placed the headset over his eyes, and turned it on as he sat on the soft comfort of his bed. Deciding to start a new game as the game loaded, he began to plan his character. He'd be a mage, High Elf of course, probably join the Imperials. Sure, archery was cool with stealth, and warriors were an option of charging in, but the power of wielding fire, lightning, and ice at your fingertips was far too tempting.

The pattering of rain was unheard, masked by the choir of the Skyrim theme as it echoed in Alex's ears, as he hummed along to the tune.

As his fingers lingered over the 'new game' option, Alex barely had enough time to register that his eyes were now blinded by an abnormally bright and white light, and his brain burnt with a searing pain he could never have imagined. Then he knew no more.

His brain returned to functioning, forcing him to inhale and splutter. Alex realised he was cold and sitting on a hard and uncomfortable surface that was definitely not his bed, an odd click-clack filling his ears, and he glanced around. He squealed in panic at what he saw. A young man with dirty blond hair and beard stared back at him, the front of his hair in a braid. Next to Alex was an older man, his hair brown, his lower face covered by a tightly wrapped mouth gag. They were sat on a carriage pulled by a horse, a man in red studded armour controlling it. All in the carriage had their hands bound with rope.

Alex had seen this scenario enough, sat through it all before.

This was Skyrim. Opposite him sat Ralof of Riverwood, and besides him was Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak of Windhelm, leader of the rebellion.

Alex's eyes focused on the other person seated in the horse-drawn carriage. She was a woman, Wood Elf judging by her tanned skin and pointed ears, with long brown hair in a ponytail behind her back. She wore a tight set of leather armour. Her coffee coloured eyes coolly observed him from across the carriage. Dragonborn.

"Thought you'd never wakeup," Ralof said jovially from opposite Alex, far to casual for someone about to potentially die. "Imperials found you passed out by the border, brought you here to get you help."

Alex looked wildly around. "What's happening? How am I here?" he asked, desperately trying to make sense of the situation.

"I told you, Imperials found you," Ralof responded, his eyes narrowing. "We were hoping you'd be able to explain what happened to you. What was it? Bandits, spell gone wrong, Skooma and mead binge?"

Alex shook his head mutely. Helgen was fast approaching and only Alex knew what would happen. The chopping block. Alduin.

The carriages entered the town, hearing the yells of the residents. Some were booing the Imperials as they neared, others cheered for the death of Ulfric. All crowded around the execution block, eager to either observe or protest the expected bloodshed.

The carriages were disembarked and the Imperials forced the group to line up. Hadvar stood at the front of the Imperials, staring at the list of names. An Imperial captain stood next to him, listening to the whispers of the Imperial that was guiding the carriage Alex was on.

The captain nodded to him before looking at Alex. "You. Out the line," she ordered.

Alex sidestepped out of the line and looked back at the captain gratefully, although she had now turned her attention to Hadvar. "I don't care, they go to the block," the captain said.

Alex turned to look at the Dragonborn, who acknowledged him with a curt nod before returning her attention to the Imperials' conversation.

A priest was giving her speech about souls moving on after death, ending her speech about all being blessed by the eight Divines. Behind was the execution block, the executioner sharpening his large axe with a glint in his eyes.

The first prisoner was called up and made to lay at the block. The executioner grinned as he raised his axe before slamming it down. Fighting the need to vomit, Alex averted his gaze from the pool of blood spreading from the decapitated head. Looking at the others present, he was the only one with this reaction, based on the impassive or mourning faces they wore.

"Next prisoner," the captain ordered, once the executioner had kicked his victim's body off the block.

_Any time now _Alex thought to himself, turning his attention to the sky.

The next Stormcloak had took his place at the block. "My ancestors are smiling at me, can you say the same?" he mocked, before the axe ended his life. A distant roar sounded and all paused momentarily to find the source of the sound.

"Next, the Wood Elf," the captain commanded, when all returned attention to the execution.

The Dragonborn walked calmly to the block and took the position. _Come on_ Alex thought.

The sunlight reflected off of the axe as it rose.

A roar sounded again, much closer than the first before Alduin landed on a tower, his black scaled wings blocking the sun. The townspeople screamed in terror as they spread.

"Archers, open fire!" the captain instructed, trying to regain any sense of order she had. The arrows glanced off its scales harmlessly, clattering to the floor. Alduin gave a roar and spoke Words of Power, as the sky turned red and fire began to rain down. Debris flew as Alduin flapped his wings and took flight, the smell of burning wood and death spreading in the air.

Alex, like the Stormcloaks and Dragonborn, took the opportunity to run. _I've done this enough to know where to go. _"Follow me!" he yelled at anybody who would listen. He ran to the closest tower and climbed up the stairs, Ralof and Dragonborn behind him. Alex felt his blood rush and his heart hammer in his chest, from both the running and the fear he felt.

The tower wall crumbled as Alduin burst through, a stream of hot flames causing the three to recoil. Alduin flew away, leaving the hole in the tower open, the remains of a building beneath it. "Jump," Alex ordered, trying to sound more confident than he felt.

The Dragonborn nodded, taking a running leap and rolled upon landing in the building.

Ralof looked down the tower where a Stormcloak moaned in pain. "I will make sure my people are ok." He sprinted back down the tower.

Alex took a breath and jumped, landing awkwardly on his leg, which cracked upon landing, but got to his feet. He ran down the building and in the direction of Helgen Keep, ignoring the fireballs from Imperial mages, and the smell of burning flesh.

When he got to the keep, Hadvar and Ralof were stood facing each other, weapons drawn.

In the middle stood the Dragonborn who glared at the two men. "Why would I go with either of you?" she said, her voice carrying a calm fury. "The Imperials were happy for me to die for being in the wrong place at the wrong time, and the Stormcloaks would have me out of Skyrim for not being a Nord. If you had any sense you would put your squabbles aside to take that creature down, but until that day, I wish you both luck in killing the others like you both deserve. I will go alone." She gave a final glare and entered the keep.

Alex knew, the only way he would survive this, would be at her side.


End file.
